Flowers in Bloom
by Goldenfur
Summary: If the Kharlan Tree is to wither away, the world will perish. Yuan wishes to have nothing more to do with the world of mortals, but Spirit Martel tries to persuade him to watch over the Great Tree for her.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the characters mentioned within this story, nor am I making any money off of this little ficlet. Besides, you'd have to be out of your mind to sue someone as poor as me...

**Author's Notes: **Written for the theme #34, Flower Petals, over at the Tales of Symphonia Challenge Community on LiveJournal. I finished this piece ages ago (in August, it seems), but I didn't feel like posting this back then. Now that I reread this, I think it's good enough to be posted here, too. I still can't spot any horrendous mistakes I'd have made (except for the fact that the Kharlan Tree does not, in fact, have any flowers...), but do let me know if there's something I missed. That said, I hope you enjoy reading this little ficlet.

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**Flowers in Bloom**

Yuan stood among the rubble of the destroyed Tower of Salvation, looking at the seedling of the revived Giant Kharlan Tree. It was worrying to realize that the world's existence was possible for only as long as this vulnerable plant was alive. This time there would be no way to save the world if it was to wither away.

He sat down and leant his back against a boulder, quietly watching the sapling from afar. This was what so many lives had been sacrificed for; the revived Mana Tree. He closed his eyes, exhausted. His objective had been fulfilled, but his work here didn't seem to be done. What his new mission would be, he didn't know yet, but he was fairly certain something would be thrown at him sooner or later. It always happened, even if he felt no inclination to do anything anymore.

He was roused from his thoughts when a raw chill blew across the Holy Ground of Kharlan and a child's voice rang out.

"Look, mommy, it's snowing!"

There was laughter, then; a woman was laughing warmly at the child's enthusiasm. "It's not snow, dear. See? Those are flowers."

Yuan opened his eyes to see a painstakingly familiar, huge tree where there had been only a small seedling only moments ago. It was dotted with white and pink flowers whose petals were falling through the air, much to the child's joy.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

The woman and the child turned to see a tall woman with long, green hair and a staff in hand standing next to the tree. "I am this tree's guardian spirit. This is the future form of the Giant Tree."

"It's so pretty!" the child exclaimed and tried to catch the petals. His mother smiled at the spirit.

"Truly? This is what the Tree of Life will look like in the future?"

The spirit nodded with a small smile. "Yes, provided that the Tree will be adored and loved. I will make sure to protect it."

Yuan sighed to himself as he watched the two women talking for a moment more. What Martel was doing was soothing, comforting, but it served no greater purpose. As the child and his mother left, he stood up and walked slowly towards the illusion of the future Tree. Martel was watching the two humans' departure intently, but when he got close enough she spoke up.

"They will never see the Tree in all its glory."

Yuan ignored the sadness in the spirit's voice and crossed his arms. "You put up quite a show."

"I did, didn't I?" She turned to look at him, the staff's pointy tip clanking against the ruins. "It brings back some memories, doesn't it?"

The half-elf didn't rise to the bait, instead glancing at the looming tree. "How long will it be before it stands this grand again?"

"Another two hundred years, at least." Her voice was sorrowful. Yuan pointedly ignored her tone, so she continued. "The Tree needs someone to protect it. I cannot do everything on my own yet."

"Kratos' son already volunteered for the job, didn't he?" Yuan replied coldly. "Let him take care of it."

"A human's life is only so long," Martel replied evenly. "And besides, he has a life of his own to live, too."

He glared at her. "Are you suggesting I don't have a life?"

"Can you say you have?" she said. "You have accomplished what you set out to do several millennia ago, yet you lost everyone you ever cared about. What meaning does life have if there's no one to share its joys and sorrows with?"

Yuan stayed silent for a long time. Eventually, when neither spoke, he sighed. "Every soul ever sacrificed to the Tree lives on in you, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes. Martel, your fiancée; Botta, your most trusted friend; every Renegade and Desian and innocent civilian who got caught up in all this… They are all part of me."

"And you live for as long as the Tree does?"

"Yes." A sad look passed her face once more. "If the Tree withers away…"

"All the souls will be lost, and the world will be destroyed," he supplied and reached out to grab a few falling petals.

"Unless there's someone who protects the Tree alongside me," she agreed.

"And you want that someone to be me. Two hundred years… It's a long time, even if it's only a fraction of the time I've lived." He sighed resignedly. "Fine, I'll do it – but only until I see the flowers in bloom for real."

She smiled radiantly, the wind rustling the leaves and whipping her long hair around. "The world doesn't know how kind-spirited a guardian it has got."

He snorted softly. "Maybe I'm just used to acting upon the wishes of the dead for the good of the living."

"Does it matter?" she queried, not really expecting an answer. "Life is more pleasant if it has a purpose, no matter where that purpose comes from."

He didn't reply. She gave him one more smile and disappeared quite suddenly, leaving him to his thoughts. He stood there, watching as the illusion of the Mana Tree began to fade away. He kept his fist tightly closed, looking at the seedling that was revealed as the mirage faded away. He then opened his fist to see the glowing remnants of disappearing flower petals resting on his palm before a gust of wind blew them away. They disintegrated long before they hit the ground, but he kept watching the way they had flown for a long time.

"You win, Goddess Martel," he whispered to the wind. "But only until the flowers bloom again."


End file.
